


Lose yourself for adoration

by Baryshnikov



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Percy Weasley, Harry Potter Dies, M/M, Manipulative Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 20:22:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15670608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baryshnikov/pseuds/Baryshnikov
Summary: Tom was his friend, the one who listened to him, the one who encouraged him, the only one who understood what it felt like to be him, so he would do anything for Tom.





	Lose yourself for adoration

**Author's Note:**

> This tiny ship really needs more love, so here's a little bit

Percy remembered when he’d first found the diary, it had been with Ginny’s things, but it wasn’t Ginny’s. He was going to return it, but it had no name and no address, so he’d kept it, put it with the rest of his stuff and taken it to Hogwarts by accident. He’d found it sometime later, it was a lovely diary, and no one had seemed to miss it, and he needed a diary, so he kept it close to him to write all those things he couldn’t share with the friends he didn’t have. 

He remembered finding out what it could do. From the first words Tom had written, he’d known. Tom was exceptional. Finally, someone who was on par with himself, an intellectual with originality, and knowledge, so much knowledge. Tom was so eloquent, so articulate, so persuasive. So, he shared with Tom, everything he wasn’t supposed to. He vented, complained and criticised everyone because Tom liked to listen, and Tom always agreed with him. Tom understood him and was equally appalled by the state of Hogwarts. Tom knew, Tom understood. 

He remembered the first time he’d told Tom, revealed secret things, dark dreams. Thoughts he’d never share with anyone, thoughts about the dark arts, about his family, about certain wizards he admired but knew he shouldn’t, and wizards he was supposed to admire and couldn’t. Tom and soothed his worried mind with smooth words. Telling him he had no reason to be scared, the greatest wizards always question the world around them. They are never content to be told, they must find out for themselves. Tom told him he was a great wizard and Percy believed him. 

He remembered the first time Tom had told him things, dark things, but the way he said them seemed so seductive. There was something in his words, something so alluring, like a magnet pulling him in and making Tom’s murky words glitter. Percy knew then he would never stop listening to Tom. When Tom asked if he wanted to learn, he had already known the answer. 

He remembered meeting Tom for the first time. Feeling so faint, eyes blurring and limbs aching. The most striking boy he’d ever seen stood in front of him. Tom had offered him his hand, and Percy had taken it. Tom was like an angel, a fantastic illusion. Faint around the edges, blurred and framed with pale light. He’d sit and talk to Percy, and it was so nice to have someone to talk to, a friend who was real, a living breathing body in front of him. He liked to just sit and stare at Tom, listening to what he was saying, but admiring the way he was saying it more. Tom was so beguiling when he spoke, even more so than when he wrote, his natural intonation complimenting his words. Every word Tom spoke was a masterpiece, and Percy had an appetite for them all. He had consumed every word Tom had spoken like he may never be offered another, but Tom had always given him more. 

He remembered wanting to know everything so very badly. Wanting Tom to share all his secrets because Tom had secrets, everything he’d taught him was only scratching the surface of what Tom knew. When Tom talked on darker things he felt his skin prickle and his heart begin to pound. It was electrifying to learn such forbidden magic, so much more interesting than what they did at school, that was too easy, too familiar these days, it had lost all its appeal. But Tom’s lessons were always new. A darker strand of magic that had always been kept hidden from him, it didn’t seem so bad when Tom taught it to him. Such magic didn’t have to be bad, that was just what they wanted him to believe, so he would never know what he could do, so he would always be kept in line. 

He remembered Tom teaching him so much more, he drank up his words, drank up Tom. He began to dream more. Always the same shadowy dreams Tom’s wrists, his hands, his fingers. The way he stood so close to him, that voice in his ear, saying those words that made him so weak. He always woke up sweaty and shaking, and anxious to see Tom again. 

He remembered that moment of doubt, confusion, fear at what he knew, and how Tom’s hand had gently touched his wrist. Soft lips at his neck. Thumb tracing his ribs, fingers on his waist, circling his hip bone and slipping between his trembling thighs. Whispers in his ear telling him about the future, how people would admire him, respect him, adore him. Percy wanted nothing more, so he believed Tom. Let himself ignore every alarm bell until their ringing fell on deaf ears. Tom wasn’t dangerous, he was his friend and he had no reason to be scared. 

He remembered Tom teaching him different things, things school didn’t teach him. Tom’s hands all over him, at first it made him self-conscious, all too aware of every imperfection, but slowly Tom made him feel wanted, needed, and oh so desirable. Tom said he loved everything Percy hated about himself, traced every freckle down his back, kissed his neck, stained his body with love until Percy was scared his brothers would see. They didn’t. They were too busy in their own little worlds to notice him and his love stained hands. Tom taught him to do such gratifying things. He taught him how good pain could be: a cold blade making stinging lacerations in his white-hot flesh. He taught him to whimper and beg and whine. He taught him what love was, explaining how to take and give love, how to stop it burning him up. Tom showed him things he never thought boys could do to each other, things he never thought could feel so good. He came to love Tom between his legs late at night, his tongue doing outrageous things no angel should know how to do, white fingerprints left in his thighs and bruises that never seemed to heal. 

He remembered Tom never leaving his side, even when he went home. When all the others were together, and he was alone. His fingers in his hair, ghosting across his ears and down his neck until he’d stopped what he’d been doing and listened to Tom. Tom was everywhere. He lurked in the corners of the Burrow late at night, smirking at Percy’s family, although none of them ever seemed to see him. He drove Percy to distraction until he was shaking and panting and desperate for Tom to sate him with knowledge, because knowledge was power, and Percy had fallen under power’s spell. 

He remembered the day Tom had asked him to do the unspeakable act, and he had. Tom had promised him it would be easy, and it was. Potter had died so quickly. Percy had thrown up afterwards, but Tom had been there, his hand on his neck murmuring how good he was and that had warmed his heart. As long as he had Tom’s approval he was the safest person in the world. Tom was the only one who mattered anymore. 

He remembered the broken look on his family’s faces and the horror on everyone else’s, when they found out who’d done it; who’d murdered the chosen one. He could see their disgusted eyes, repulsed, sickened, stunned by what he had become. But all he could hear was Tom’s whispers in his ear, telling him everything would be all right. That they just didn’t understand yet, but they would, one day they would see what he had done in a new light. Then they would adore him, respect him, admire him. 

He remembered the moment Tom abandoned him, watched him fall and smiled as he did so. Why should Tom defend what Percy had done? He had done it oh so willingly. When he stood on trial, Tom had been there, shaking his head in condemnation: Percy had failed him and that hurt more than his sentence ever would. Percy never heard what the judge said, all he could hear was Tom’s voice deep inside his head rebuking everything he did, how weak he was, what a disappointment he’d come to be. He’d wanted to cry, but he wouldn’t give Tom the satisfaction of knowing how much he hurt him. 

He remembered when sitting in the dark how much he had loved Tom in every meaning of the word, Tom had been his everything, but he had always been nothing. He’d lost his whole world for a passing glance, his life for a momentary adoration and he would do it again just to see Tom one last time.


End file.
